It's Complicated
by SomebodyAwesomeSauce
Summary: He appears everywhere, like an itch that won't go away. It would be easy to lose him in a crowd if it weren't for that green monster-face beanie, worn but still bright. After a while, scratching that itch becomes a habit; an action to find comfort in during harrowing times. This boy is the walking embodiment of the phrase, 'Everything is not what it seems'. (Reader x Fred)


You're working fervently in your lab space, trying to complete your overdue project. You were so lucky that the Professor was in a good mood, and had allowed an extra week for your extension. You were already three days in, but the damn thing just wouldn't work right!

You add in the final component. From all your notes and research combined, you _know_ this will work.

Your heart drops as the project sparks, hitting a notebook and starting a small fire. From habit or experience - you don't know which - you absentmindedly grab the nearby fire extinguisher and shower the bench. You stare blankly at the project you've been working on for over a month.

The red can falls from your hands as they start to shake. You slam delicate fists down on your workbench, not caring when something rolls away and shatters on the floor - it pretty much summed up your situation.

You sit down on the stool next to your bench and fold your arms, lowering your head between them. _This is hopeless._ You shudder with body-wracking sobs. _I'm gonna fail this. I've had a week for extension and it's still not working. What the hell is wrong with me? Everyone else just breezed in their assignments. Why am I struggling so much with this? It should be simple, damn it!_

You sob even louder, sucking in a loud, shaky breath. _This isn't going to work. I'm going to fail a stupid, worthless progress-testing assignment because it just. Won't. Work._

Your frame shakes with a series of small sobs, shoulders quivering. Warm, strong hands embrace them.

"Hey, Y/n, what's wrong?" asks a playful voice laced with concern.

Your head shoots up. _Damn it. Who caught me in such a vulnerable state?_ Your head collides with another.

"Ah, ow, ow owowow."

You swivel around on the stool to find a grungy looking blonde rubbing at his nose.

"I'm s-sorry." You wipe briskly at the tear tracks on your reddening cheeks. You try breathing a little slower to hide your frustration, but he's already seen through it.

He massages his face once more before letting his hand drop. "You okay, Y/n?"

"Y-Yeah." you lie. Why do you lie? You're clearly not okay. You shake your head. He's a stranger. There's no point telling him your problems. You brush away a few stray locks of h/c hair and turn away, rolling up your sleeves to clean up the mess. Your eyes are still red and puffy from your outburst, but you hope he leaves you alone. _Let me wallow. I'm not in the mood for pity._

He doesn't leave. "See, some people would call that a 'mixed message', which is probably the right name for it, but I like to call it 'my problem'. It is my duty as school mascot to make people smile. And I take my duty _very_ seriously. I'm not leaving until you're full of the SFIT spirit."

You grab some paper towels and start wiping up foam. You stay silent.

He takes this as some sign to carry on. "You know, I have some friends who could take a look at that, maybe help you out."

You shake your head vigorously. If he's anything to go by, then his _friends_ can't be much better.

"Okay then."

You toss the soiled towelling into the trash and turn back to pack up for the night. He's sitting on your stool. _Would you just go away?_

"I'm not leaving." he states simply, as if he'd read your mind. He leans back, using the bench as support. His green beanie slips slightly off his head.

Due to your mood, you reply with snark. "Obviously."

He rolls away and spins around on the stool a few times. On the fourth spin he stops, facing your workbench. "So what are you working on?"

"Dumb project." You grumble.

"What's it about?" he asks innocently. He seems intrigued by the sketches and equations scribbled in your handwriting, flipping a few pages over.

You snatch your notebook away, scowling at it. "It's complicated."

He crosses his arms determinedly. "Try me." he challenges.

Your eye twitches at him _. Can he just leave me alone?!_ You snap. All of your mistakes and trials with this project bubble out of your mouth, as well as a few nondescript choice words. "And then he gives me an extension, and I still can't get the damn thing to work!" you finish. You sniff again and realise that tears have escaped, unnoticed by your anger.

You relent. "What is so wrong with me that I can't complete a simple assignment? Everyone else finished theirs on time, and all I have to show for it is... is this piece of-" you break off with a sob, surprising yourself and the visitor. Fresh tears leak out.

You wipe furiously at your eyes, betrayed by your body. "Damn it." you whisper, and sniff again. Back where you started, minus the mess of foam and scraps littering your bench.

You look at him briefly. His eyes are wide with furrowed brows, a worried frown marring what should be a carefree face.

"Y/n, are you sure you don't want any help? My friends, they go here, maybe they could take a look and-"

"Thanks, but no thanks." You briskly pack your messenger bag, trying to set a stern expression - and failing miserably. "I don't need help. It's just a s-simple project." You turn to face him. "Thanks for the offer, really. I'm sorry..." you stop abruptly. _What's his name?_

For the second time that night, he surprises you with an answer. "Fred. My name's Fred." He stands, relaxing his posture and visage. He waits for you to grab the last of your things before walking you to the door of the open lab-space. "I'm always hanging around here, so y'know, just yell if you need anything."

A soft smile moves your lips at his kindness. After the way you'd yelled at him, he had continued to offer advice and assistance. Your eyes still sting from drying tears. "O-Okay. Thank you, Fred."

A natural-looking smile slaps itself across his face. "Anytime, Y/n. I told you, I wasn't letting you leave without a smile."

You chuckle half-heartedly. " _You_ weren't letting _me_ leave? Since when was this a hostage situation? Should I have called the cops?"

He shrugs, grin growing wider. "The fire department would've been quicker."

Your face falls as you remember the failure of the night. You glance back at your bench.

Fred's eyes dart to your station and back, frowning like a guilty puppy. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Goodnight, Fred." You open the door and leave.

"'Night, Y/n." he replies soberly.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is something I wrote for a friend quite a while back. Fred is her favourite character, and she wrote a story in exchange for a favourite character of mine based on the prompt,** ** _It's Complicated._** **I forgot I had this until she brought it up and said I should post it. So here it is, the ReaderxFred that one person asked for. I'm leaving it up to you guys as to whether I should continue or not. The chapters will be pretty short if I do.**

 **Just a thought, but maybe, whoever wants to, leave me a prompt with 2-3 characters that you would like the story to be about, and maybe I could write those while I sort out my other stories? PM's or reviews, whatever works. :)**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! :) Thanks to** ** _Fernblaze the Fangirl_** **for Beta-ing!**


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